In Which We Find Our Immortality

by Croik

Continuation fic18 years after Meteor, everyone THOUGHT things had settled down. Well, too bad!

1. Default Chapter Title

In Which We Find Our Immortality

Chapter 1: Incidents

The face staring back at him from the mirror was most displeasing. It was a sleep-deprived and tangled-hair type of face, as if the owner—a fourteen-year-old boy—had just awakened from a long, fitful coma. He sighed distastefully, running a stiff brush through the mess of white-blond hair. Thankfully, the locks quickly obeyed his instructions. The next problem was wardrobe, a dilemma which proved to be far more complicated than the last. After quite some time he finally decided on a pair of blue jean shorts and a white T-shirt with the logo of his favorite soft drink. The orange design clashed a bit with his emerald green eyes, but he didn't care. Cool was cool.

"Collin!" his mother called from downstairs. "Hurry up, your sisters are waiting!"

"Coming!" He finished the outfit by adding a pair of dark sunglasses that, as said by his sister, resembled "some dorky alien eyes." He didn't care for her opinion, naturally. After all, he wasn't trying to look good for her.

Collin snatched his book bag off the floor and left his room, descending the staircase with his usual flourish of thunder. He took the last five steps at once. "No time for breakfast—gotta go." Without waiting for a reply he headed for the door.

"Collin, calm down." His mother intercepted him, carrying a brown paper bag. At least when she packed his lunch she had the sense to not label or decorate it. "There's a bagel in there for your breakfast, since you're in such a hurry," she said, handing it over. "You'll be right home after school, won't you?"

"Mom, I already told you; there's a performance today." Collin stuffed the lunch into his bag, which was already bulging with the many books, binders, and other accessories necessary to a freshman in high school. "You said you and Dad were going to come this time."

His mother frowned, pushing a lock of brown hair behind her ear. "Collin, you know how your father is about these things," she said. "He's not very enthusiastic about it."

"I know, but it's important." This wasn't any performance, after all. This was a performance being given by the most beautiful, intelligent, talented girl in his grade—no, the school. Maybe the cosmos. "I can't miss it, and I think you two should come, too." He shrugged. "Everyone else promised."

"Hey!" Collin's the oldest of Collin's sisters, Daryl, called from the street. "Come on, or we'll be late!"

"Coming! Mom, please." Before she could reply he turned and ran down the driveway, joining his three sisters on the sidewalk. He waved good-bye to his mother. "I'll see you later!"

"Bye Mom!" the three girls called in unison.

Their mother smiled, waving back as her children started down the street to school. Once they were gone, however, she allowed herself a sigh. She returned to the house to begin her daily chores.

---

"So what's so special about this 'performance'?" Samantha, the middle sibling at eleven years old, asked as they walked. "Is it your girlfriend?"

"I don't have a girlfriend," Collin protested, keeping at the head of the group. "It's Tess."

Daryl, the eldest of his sisters at age 13, snorted humorously. "Yeah, it's his girlfriend all right."

"I said she's not. We're just friends."

"Yeah—just because our dad's famous."

Collin raised his head and didn't respond. He didn't need to prove anything to them. "Anyway, you'll come, won't you? Marlene and Vincent already promised me—we should all go."

Daryl shrugged and pulled at her short brunette hair; he found her indifference annoying. "Sure. She's good, after all. But it's just going to be another Avalanche story, right? It's like she's obsessed with them."

"'It's how history gets told,'" he quoted. "If no one told it, we'd forget."

"I don't think anyone's ever gonna forget," nine-year-old Elly added, "with our dad around."

"Good point."

---

Nine a.m. and it was already past eighty degrees Fahrenheit. Marlene sighed, contemplating the office water-cooler; she wondered how much of a mess she'd make if she attempted to pour its contents out onto her head. Probably more of a mess than she was willing to clean up. But it would feel good, this being the third day of an unbearable heat wave. Though summer in Rocket City was never unpleasant in terms of temperature, she was beginning to wish that she lived in the North.

The phone rang. She stared at the offending device for a moment, as if reaching to take the receiver was too much of an effort. Thoughts of her paycheck eventually motivated her to answer. For the past three years Marlene Wallace had worked for Phoenix Lattice, the largest organization left after the Upheaval with Meteor sixteen years ago. The company had taken over the place of Shin-ra Inc., though no one dared voice the similarity, as if the name of the ancient rulers was in itself an icon of bad luck. The President of Phoenix Lattice had, in fact, made many drastic improvements to her predecessor's methods: the company controlled every aspect of life in Rocket City, from the water to the stock market, but instead of all that power in the hands of one man (or in this case, one woman) the company was also ruled by a cabinet, consisting of citizens elected from the city's four provinces. No new laws or ordinances were implemented without consent from all of them. This caused the company to behave more like a democracy, without including words like "government" which made people nervous.

Governments in the new world never lasted long.

Presently, however, Marlene wasn't worried about the politics she was aiding. Her prime concern was making sure she kept accurate messages for her boss. Organization had never been a problem for her—ever since her childhood she'd been very good with numbers and dates. Though secretary work wasn't glamorous, she was good at it, and the pay was excellent.

As soon as Marlene hung the phone up it rang again. "Oh, hello Shera," she said once the voice's identity was revealed. "Hmm? Of course I am. I promised Collin I would. 4:00, wasn't it? Sure. I can try. Okay, okay. I'll see you there. Bye." She hung up the phone and stood, stretching a bit. "This isn't going to be easy." With a sigh she knocked on the door of her boss's office. "It's Marlene."

"Come in."

She twisted the knob and stepped inside the small, cramped office. Three of the office walls were lined with various computer monitors, printers, fax machines, and other equipment. The fourth wall was decorated with mostly pictures, each about the same size, meticulously hung around the small window. Marlene reminded herself every time she entered that there was such a thing as someone even more careful than her.

That someone was sitting in a wheeled office chair, staring at a paper on the desk as his fingers flew over the keyboard. Every once and a while his eyes shifted to the screen to view his work. Marlene just watched for a moment, impressed by the speed he was able to type at—greater than her own. She often joked that he should become her secretary.

"Who called?" Vincent Valentine flicked his head to the left, removing the dark bangs from his eyes and meeting her gaze briefly in one smooth motion. Though he returned to his typing, the golden digits of his left hand clicking, she knew he was still listening.

"That was Shera," she replied. "There's that performance today, remember? Starts at four. Collin's friend is in it, but he's having trouble convincing his dad."

Vincent hummed thoughtfully. "That will be difficult."

"Yeah, tell me about it. He's not as open-minded about it as you are." She chuckled with good humor. "Kinda funny, isn't it? You used to be the last person I'd call open-minded."

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Things change."

"Yes." Marlene could still remember the first time she'd met Vincent Valentine, former Avalanche member and a Turk before that. She'd been only seven years old, but somehow she'd been able to comprehend how different he was. It wasn't just his arm—her father, after all, had had a machine gun grafted to his own. He suffered from a pain deeper than loneliness, deeper than guilt, and she'd seen that. But she wasn't afraid. And from that moment, they'd become friends. Even now, though her adoptive family was caring and encouraging, somehow she always felt that Vincent knew her best.

"I suppose she wants me to talk to him," Vincent was saying, saving his work before shutting the program down. "I don't think he'll like the idea."

"No. Especially...." Marlene bit her lip. "Actually, Collin told me what Tess's piece is about. And...he's not going to like it. I can tell you that already."

The man frowned, raising his red eyes to meet hers. "Oh? Another story about us?"

None of Avalanche's existing members spoke the name they'd once held anymore. Early on they'd realized that most people connected that old group to the catastrophes surrounding Meteor, and were loathe to be reminded of them. "Yeah. The word around the school is that she's amazing, but her topic's a little controversial."

"I can't imagine it being any worse then when she tried to convince everyone that Rufus was still alive."

Marlene cringed. "Actually..."

"Never mind. I want to be surprised." Vincent stood, following her earlier example by stretching a bit. "I'll talk to him. We're meeting for lunch, after all. It might be best if you let me handle this alone." He shrugged. "I think he already knows what your opinion is."

"I think everyone already knows what my opinion is," she replied cheerfully, hoping to get a chuckle, or at least a smile, from him.

Her efforts were awarded with the former. "True. Anyway, I have an appointment to meet with the engineers. You'll take care of everything while I'm gone, won't you?"

"Of course." Marlene smiled, returning to her desk. A moment later Vincent left his office with some papers of his. She watched him leave, as always a bit awed by how smooth and perfect his movements were. She didn't know anyone quite like him.

But then, Vincent had once been a very different person. In the past sixteen years many changes had taken place other than the shortening of his hair and the improvement of his wardrobe to include colors other than black; his personality had undergone a severe transformation. The cold, isolated shell that had once trapped so many of his emotions inside had been long since dissolved, revealing a man who was intelligent, thoughtful, and sometimes even charming. And handsome. In all the years she'd known him those same sleek features never changed, never aged. He was the envy of many of his comrades. Marlene smiled a bit at the thought of his youthfulness; she didn't mind admitting to herself that for quite some time she'd even had a small crush on him.

Of course Marlene hadn't known Vincent before they met three years after Meteor. She knew, however, about Chaos, and his history with Lucretia. As far as she could tell there was no trace of the demon inside him at all anymore—he hadn't transformed in nearly two decades. Though the gold claw was a constant reminder of a tragic past, it seemed that he had all but left those regrets behind. And because of that, she was very proud of him.

They won't like this performance the voice of reason told her. A piece about Sephiroth…even I'm skeptical. But it's so important to Collin, especially since his birthday is coming up. She sighed. I hope...he comes this year.

---

Collin could barely pay attention during class. He wasn't interested in geography. Though he very much appreciated the earth and all it had to offer, he never understood why men had to be so concerned with mapping and charting every inch of it. Who cared which regions belonged to who? Since the Fallout there were only seven inhabitable regions left: Rocket City, Wutai, Cosmo Canyon, Mideel, and the new cities of Sanctum, Alverdon, and Calbren. No contact had been made with Mideel for over a decade, however, as the jungles surrounding it had grown to become even more dense than before the Fallout. All the other great cities had been utterly destroyed, claimed by the planet itself. A world once populated by billions of people was now limited to several million. It seemed to Collin that memorizing the names of inhospitable mountain ranges was somewhat ridiculous.

"Class, please turn to page forty-seven in your books," called the teacher, Ms. Feinder. She was an unusually tall woman with curly brown hair and thin glasses, not quite past her prime but old enough to earn the name "Old hag" from her students. "All of the information in these tables will be on your final, Friday."

The class groaned in unison. Collin merely shrugged. Though he disliked most of his school subjects, his memory was impeccable. He glanced about the room, watching as his classmates hurried to write down the page number in their planners. His gaze was drawn inevitably to the back of the head of a girl sitting in the second row, three seats ahead: Tess Raven. She was fidgeting, as she always did in this class—they only class they shared. He smiled a bit to himself. She must be nervous about today, he thought. It'll be a big audience. Man, she's brave.

Tess Raven was a freshman, just as Collin was, but their similarities stopped there. She was a charming, quick-minded but not book-smart girl with short brown hair and dark, beautiful eyes. Collin, on the other hand, was independent, intelligent, and a bit shy. He'd spent nearly all of his adolescent life idolizing her from afar, waiting for a chance to speak to her. It had come during their second year of Junior High, when Tess joined the school Performance Ring. The class did everything from poetry, to songs, to short skits and interpretation speeches. Her first piece was about Avalanche, and since his father was one of its members, they'd formed an almost friendship as she questioned his family and friends. That was the closest he would ever get to Tess Raven, though. She was too much for him. Not that Collin was disliked in his grade; he simply didn't find it necessary to make an effort to impress anyone until she showed up.

"Attention teachers, this is the Principal," came the announcement over the loudspeaker. All heads turned upward, and the class immediately silenced. They waited expectantly. "Please turn on your classroom televisions to channel 3. The President of Phoenix Lattice is about to give an important message."

The sound of Ms. Feinder's clacking heels was the only sound in the room as she moved to the television mounted on the wall. Collin held his breath. The other students exchanged glances, as if they already knew the tidings they were about to receive. It was not often that the President herself gave speeches, especially at this time of the day. He prayed silently.

"We interrupt this broadcast for an important message from President Mathews," came the news voiceover, the camera focused on a desk with the Phoenix Lattice insignia marked on its surface. The President, Cassandra Mathews, was a slim, moderately attractive woman with dark hair and a fair complexion. Her face was grim.

"Good afternoon, residences of Rocket City," she began, and Collin could only close his eyes, absorbing her words with silent grief. Somehow, he already knew. The thought of it made his blood run cold. "I'm afraid I come before you as the bearer of unfortunate and shocking news. For the past eighteen months the settlement of Vandalee has been under construction, on the southern shore of this continent. We received word this morning, however, that the entire colony has been destroyed." The class exchanged more glances. "This was caused primarily by a clan of wandering New Griffins from the southern islands." Here the President paused, her manner becoming increasingly solemn. "Ten thousand of our citizens were involved in the colonization effort. So far we have only been informed of fourteen survivors."

The boy behind Collin suddenly leapt to his feet, knocking over his chair. "Who?" he shouted at the screen, near tears. "Who? My father was—"

"Benny, calm down," one of his friends tried to assure him. "I'm sure—"

"Aren't they going to say who survived?"

"What about the Griffins? Are they coming here?"

The class began to fall into chaos, and Collin moved to the front of the room so that he could hear the rest of the broadcast. "—to the family members of those involved," the President was saying. "Of course, project Vandalee has been canceled, and all travel outside of the city has been suspended until further notice. As of right now there is no indication that the New Griffin Clan will be heading north, but all citizens are urged to remain calm and review emergency procedures with their families."

"That's the third one in sixteen years, isn't it?" said Tess. Collin started, paying attention so closely to the broadcast that he hadn't noticed her presence at his side. "All of them destroyed by the planet, just like..."

Like Midgar, and all the original cities. Nibelheim, and Junon, and North Corel... "I don't understand," he admitted, staring at the screen. "Why? Why would the planet...?"

"I don't know. But there must have been a reason…."

"Yeah." Collin sighed, and had a sudden thought. "What about your performance? After this, they might want you to cancel."

"I can't cancel now," Tess replied instantly. "This is my last chance to use the stage before they close down for the summer. I have to."

He nodded, wondering if he should have said anything more. He settled with silence, watching as the President completed her report and then wished her viewers a safe evening. Collin wondered vaguely if his father had heard the report, and what his reaction had been. When the regular news came back on he turned off the TV and helped Ms. Feinder in calming the class down.

---

"Hey, Collin?" Daryl asked as the four siblings walked home together after school. "I'm sorry about Tess's performance."

"Yeah. The Principal didn't think it'd be appropriate after everything...but he did reschedule." Collin kept his head up, determined to remain positive. "For Saturday. I feel bad, but it's better than nothing, right? This way I'll have more time to work on Dad."

"You're right. Saturday'll be good—your birthday." Daryl adjusted the bag on her shoulder, then thumped her brother on the back and began to run. "I'll bea'cha home!" she called, sprinting down the sidewalk.

"Hey! Wait!" He gave chase, their two younger sisters running to catch up with twin shouts.

---

In response to your earlier letter:

Unfortunately, my mother will not be able to attend Collin's birthday celebration this year. She sends her deepest apologies. It is her opinion, however, that these yearly meetings are not only difficult to journey to, but difficult to attend. The remains of all our lives should be spent looking ahead to the future, not dwelling on the past. Please accept her apologies as well as my own, and wish Collin well for the both of us. Whether or not we attend next year is yet to be seen.

Sincerely,

Shaln Kisaragi

Marlene sighed, folding the letter and replacing it in the envelope. She dropped it reluctantly into the trash. "Ms Kisaragi won't be coming," she told Vincent, who had returned from his meeting and was taking a momentary break before returning to his work. "She thinks we shouldn't be dwelling on the past. I don't understand—you all are her friends."

Vincent, who was leaning against her desk, shook his head slowly. "Maybe, but I think I understand her feelings somewhat. We keep meeting every year, but what good does it do? We all have our own lives now. Whatever might have connected us back then has gone, somehow." His crimson eyes moved slowly to gaze out the open window. "I don't blame her. She wants to forget it all, and go on with her life."

Marlene paused, noting the tone of his voice. "You're...not upset, are you Vincent? Do you wish I wouldn't do this anymore?" Every year Marlene had taken it upon herself to contact every one of the remaining Avalanche members, arranging the meetings and keeping everyone together. She simply couldn't understand why they wouldn't want to—once they had been an inseparable team, best friends and allies. They'd saved the world; what reason had they to split up? Wasn't it important to remember?

Vincent didn't answer immediately. "I appreciate what you've done for all of us," he started. "If it wasn't for your efforts, we would have lost contact with Yuffie and Nanaki a long time ago. But if Yuffie is tired of it...we might not be able to change her mind." He paused. "I think Nanaki will not come this year, either, as his journey would require him traveling through where Vandalee once was. He also has his cubs to tend to. It would be dangerous, if the Griffin Clan is on the move in that area."

---

Cid puffed on his cigarette. He didn't smoke as much now as he had once, but now it was late, and he was in a bad mood. "I'm not up to this counsel shit," he muttered—he'd been telling himself that for the past sixteen years, and yet he couldn't bring himself to quit. Though he didn't know much about politics and business, his experience had saved Rocket City from numerous threats before. None of his knowledge had helped Vandalee, though. He hadn't expected something as sudden as this. And now, he had to explain to the Phoenix Lattice Counsel why the planet had terminated their project.

He didn't know why. He didn't have all the answers. He didn't know why hundreds of monsters had shown up after Meteor, destroying as much of civilization as they could, or why they had shown up now after so long an absence. As far as he was concerned Mother Nature was a bitch with a sick sense of humor.

And then that damn performance. Just after Vincent had convinced him to attend the damn thing, he'd gotten a call from Shera saying it was canceled. Not that he argued the reasoning—it was hardly appropriate after a massive slaughter to even speak of Shin-ra or Sephiroth or Avalanche, all three names sources of bad luck. He was annoyed, however, because most likely he'd change his mind about going over the course of the week, which would mean everyone else trying to change his mind back again.

In any case, it was late, and he was exhausted.

By the time Cid reached home his four children had gone to bed. Marlene had as well—she and Vincent both lived in the house's extra rooms, making them one big happy family. He was glad to have them, as their salaries more than covered their expenses, leaving more money in the "family" bank account. Not only that, but with four kids, he definitely needed the assistance.

Shera was sitting on the couch, and upon further inspection he found that she had fallen asleep. Vincent was sitting in the chair opposite her, reading from a special bulletin distributed by the company concerning that morning's incident. He looked up as Cid entered. "Welcome back."

"God damn, what a day." Cid dropped heavily into another of the living room's chairs, smashing his cigarette into a conveniently placed ashtray. "Everyone's in an uproar. You heard, right?" He groaned when Vincent simply indicated his reading material. "Whatever. What do you think?"

"I think maybe we should give up trying for a while," Vincent said carefully. "Do you realize that, over the past years, out of six projects we've lost three colonies?"

"I know, I know. But what else can we do?" He rubbed his eyes wearily. "This city is growing too damn fast for its own good. We need more room. We need another damn city."

"Be that as it may, the planet is not ready to let us yet."

Cid groaned again. "What a mess. And with Collin's birthday coming up, too. Marlene told you about Yuffie?"

Vincent nodded. "Yes. I was there when she read the letter."

"Don't blame the poor girl. She's got problems of her own."

"We all do." He paused, as if unsure of mentioning something. Cid waited, knowing that the man would spit it out eventually. "I had a strange feeling today," he murmured at last, glancing at Shera to make sure she really was asleep. "Just about the time that Vandalee was destroyed."

"Feeling?" Cid didn't like the sound of that. Vincent's instincts were usually dead on. "What kind of feeling?"

"Eerie. Like there's something more to this than just a Griffin raid." He set the bulletin aside and leaned forward. "Didn't you feel it? Like something...cold."

"No." Now he definitely didn't like the sound of it.

Vincent considered for a moment before climbing to his feet. "I might just be paranoid, but still...have them keep and eye out. We can't take chances."

Cid nodded. "Yeah, sure. I'll let you know when they recover the footage tapes. Just don't mention your spooky stuff to anyone, okay? They're worked up enough."

"Of course. Good night, Cid."

"G-night, Vince." He gently rocked his wife awake, and together they made their way upstairs. As Shera entered the bathroom to brush her teeth—and do whatever it was that women took so long in doing before bed—Cid moved to open the windows. I'll have to get those damn air-conditioners in soon, he reminded himself. Tomorrow's going to be a hot one. He leaned against the window frame, staring absently into the dark night. His gaze was drawn to the canopy of sky, and the stars that dotted it like tiny jewels. Summer nights were always the most beautiful. He sighed, feeling a pang of nostalgia.

But then his senses caught something else. A chill ran up his bare arms, even as there was no breeze. He frowned, remembering what Vincent had told him only minutes before. "Weird," he muttered, unconsciously searching the streets below. Suddenly he found himself wondering if the gun in his dresser drawer was loaded. Just when he was about to dismiss the feeling as simple paranoia over the New Griffin incident, he detected a faint "warking" sound.

A chocobo? There haven't been any chocobos around here for years. Cid leaned further outside, finally catching sight of a dark figure coming down the street. He squinted against the night. It did look like a chocobo—two of them, one of them being ridden by a man.

"Cid?" Shera called from the bathroom. "Is something wrong?"

"Someone riding a chocobo," he replied, frowning deeply. "Strange, huh? Haven't seen something like that in a while." His curiosity gradually darkened into concern when he realized that the rider was heading in their direction.

"Someone we know?" She was standing beside him now, watching as the chocobos stopped in front of their house, warking softly.

"Dunno." Cid tried to get a better look, but it was too dark outside. He watched anxiously as the man dismounted, checking the number on their mailbox. Then, as if noticing their presence, he turned his head upward. Even in the dead of night his glowing Mako eyes shone clearly.

Cid muttered several particularly vulgar curses under his breath. "Shera, stay here," he told her, quickly closing the window and covering it with the curtains. He moved to the dresser drawer and unlocked it, removing the small handgun he'd bought years ago to replace his spear. It was loaded.

"Cid, what's going on?" Shera asked warily, sitting on the bed. "Who is that? What—"

"Don't worry—this is just in case." He shoved the gun into the back of his belt and headed for the door. "Just stay here, alright? I won't be long."

"But Cid—"

"Just stay." He left the room, closing the door behind him.

In Which We Find Our Immortality

Chapter 2: Meeting the Legend

Collin was dreaming. He'd had this dream more than once but not enough to worry him over it. Every few months he would wake up, and recall the same images that had been following him since he was a boy. Though he reasoned that the scene should have frightened him, it didn't. He was used to it.

He could see a woman lying on her back, cradled in the arms of a man. Her long brown hair was strewn about, limp and without shine, and her skin was pale except in those places stained crimson. Her presence made the area cold. The man who held her was always covered in shadows, and his voice, rising sharply in anger, spoke only words that were unrecognizable to the boy.

But they weren't alone. Standing over them was the focus of the raging curses—a man, standing tall, also covered in darkness. Except his eyes. The man's eyes glowed, unlike anything Collin had ever seen. They were blank and cold in looking upon the dead woman. Protruding from the shadow that was his right hand was a streak of silver light, as if reflecting off a polished, sharpened blade.

And this was the dream. The woman would lie, dead, the first man would scream and curse, and the second man would only stand, staring. But that night something changed. The dream didn't end as soon as it should have. Instead, the man with the sword lifted his weapon. It rose above his head, shining with a kind of morbid splendor. And then the blade came down at him.

Collin awoke with a start. He quickly surveyed the room, as if expecting one of his dream's players to be there, waiting. But there was nothing. It was only him in his room, surrounded in empty darkness. He laughed at himself for being so foolish.

He was startled again by the sound of someone descending the stairs. He frowned and looked at the clock: it was nearly midnight. Who would be up this late? Since he was already awake—and wondering if he'd be able to fall back asleep after his dream—he climbed out of bed and investigated.

The hallway felt unusually cold as he stepped out in his bare feet. He shivered, frowning to himself—it had seemed that only moments ago he was sweating in his T-shirt. Carefully he moved to the top of the stairs. He could hear Cid cursing to himself, and the front door being unlocked and opened. He moved down several steps in order to see.

The man at the door was shorter than Cid and directly in front of him, obscuring most of Collin's view. He could make out only that the man was rather well-built, based on his broad shoulders, and that he was wearing thick gloves. The kitchen lights reflected off of several colorful spheres placed in the gloves' included armlets.

Materia? The planet stopped making materia after the Fallout. Maybe...could this man be a member of the old Avalanche, like Dad? Dad doesn't seem happy to see him, though...

"I didn't expect to see you here," Cid was saying. There was a strange tone in his voice; a combination of anger and anxiety. "Just passing through, I hope."

"I was invited," the stranger replied. His voice was low and rough, as if the man were unaccustomed to using it. The sound of it gave Collin a chill, and he wrapped his arms around himself. There was nothing threatening in it—it just felt wrong. He bit his lip and descended a few more steps to see better.

"Invited? By who?"

"Marlene said it was...his birthday."

Cid swore, turning his head away for a moment. Collin waited to see what he would do. There was a strange tension in the air, like thin wires stretching between the two men. Certainly they knew each other—but why would Dad be so upset? What was this man doing here in the middle of the night?

"Collin." His mother was suddenly beside him, tightening the robe around her waist. Her face reflected firm seriousness. "Go back to bed."

"Who is that?" he asked, watching with confusion as Cid began to go on about how his visitor was "unwanted" and should "get the hell away from" his family. "Does Dad know him? What's going on?"

"Nothing. Now go to bed." Shera stood and moved over to her husband, attempting to calm him. He would have none of it. Collin winced as the man's voice grew in volume and temper. Soon Marlene and Vincent had awoken and moved to join the discussion, which was quickly becoming an all-out argument. Collin watched from the stairway, a bit mystified by the scene that was taking place. He glanced to the top of the stairs, where his three sisters were crouched, casting curious glances his way. He shrugged.

Shera and Marlene began to urge Cid away from the door, still attempting to quiet his outburst. "You don't get it!" he nearly shouted. "I don't want him in this house!"

But Vincent had already motioned for the stranger to step inside. Collin leaned forward in anticipation at being able to see the visitor. He shuddered the moment he laid eyes on the man.

The stranger was a somewhat short, well-built man in his thirties, with sloppy blond hair that fell over his shoulders and face; he hadn't attempted to cut or comb it in months, or so it looked. He was dressed in dark, loose-fitting pants and a leather vest that was covered with dozens of straps and pockets. His boots were thick and worn, sporting just as many materia as his gloves. But these features were not what had given Collin such a fright; it was the man's eyes. They were a bright, iridescent blue—blue so brilliant that they almost seemed to glow in the darkness of the night. They were sharp and intense, unlike anything he'd ever seen. And though some part of him might have thought them to be amazing, he could feel only sick fear. A fear that churned in his gut like a pacing animal.

He closed his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look.

---

Vincent took notice of the boy's position of the stairs, but he didn't dare let his gaze linger there for long. Ignoring Collin's presence he led the visitor into the kitchen, offering him a chair. The man sat, his movements weary after so long a journey. "Can I get you anything?" Vincent asked. "You look exhausted."

"Water," the man replied quietly. "Just some water."

"Sure." Vincent quickly retrieved a glass of water, keeping an eye on Shera and Marlene's progress with Cid. The former Captain seemed to have calmed down somewhat, but was still casting suspicious glances at their visitor. Vincent sighed. He understood his friend's feelings, but he also sympathized with their cause. Unsure as to how he might handle this situation, he seated himself at the table. "Marlene invited you, didn't she?" he asked somewhat awkwardly. Despite all his time learning to adjust to being with people, conversation was still a basic skill that eluded him. "How did she get in touch with you?"

"I was in Cosmo Canyon when Nanaki received her invitation letter. When she heard from him, she wrote back suggesting that I come."

Vincent nodded, his gaze shifting momentarily to the boy that was still seated on the stairs, watching with wide, almost fearfully curious eyes. Again he pretended to ignore him. "We've been keeping up this tradition ever since Meteor," he said quietly. He paused. "I have always hoped you would come back. I think Cid did, too, but..."

"No." Cloud Strife set his glass down. "He doesn't trust me anymore."

---

"Cloud Strife?" Collin repeated in an exasperated whisper. He glared at Daryl in disbelief. "The real Cloud Strife?"

"It has to be," she argued knowingly. "I mean, look at him. The outfit, the materia—he's got two chocobos tethered outside. Do you realize how rare chocobos are now? And Dad knows him. It's gotta be him."

"His hair isn't spiky," Elly protest from behind them.

Daryl scowled. "That doesn't matter. But seriously, how can it not be him? And they say that Strife did disappear a while after the Fallout and has been wandering for years. Just look at him."

Collin did look, but then averted his eyes again. "He gives me the creeps," he muttered, unconsciously edging away. "How do we knew he isn't one of Dad's old enemies?"

"Yeah, like Rufus Shin-ra, back from the dead," Samantha mocked. "You can't believe everything Tess tells you."

"Hey, what are you all doing up?" The four started, and met their father's angry glare with trepidation. "Get yer butts back in bed," he instructed harshly, though his eyes kept glancing back at their guest. "Go to sleep for God's sake—you've got school tomorrow."

"Yeah, Dad," Daryl answered for all of them. "C'mon guys, we'll drill'em in the morning." Looking back one more time, she stood and started up the stairs.

Collin hesitated, still watching as Vincent and the stranger continued to speak. He wanted to know what they were saying. When he saw his father's expression, however, he knew better than to resist. Chewing his lip discontentedly he followed his sisters' example, returning to his room. Before he could climb in bed, however, the youngest, Elly, snuck inside. "Collin," she asked quietly, "do you really think it's Cloud Strife?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But we can ask in the morning, okay? Now go to sleep."

"Okay." She turned and scampered out of the room.

Collin pursed his lips and finally climbed into bed, pulling the covers up under his chin. He still felt cold, and unsure. The sound of voices drifted up to him through the open door. He didn't want to close it, as if one of them would speak loud enough to give him a clue as to what was happening. No matter how hard he listened, however, he could not catch anything. Only the tones: Cid's anger; his mothers patience; Marlene's insistence; and Vincent's reason. And then the stranger, barely audible and hoarse. Eventually the sound of it forced him to close the door.

For a long time after Collin couldn't sleep. The images from his nightmare came back to him, and some new, more frightening visions: of the stranger, his blue eyes blazing, carrying a sword that hummed and glowed as if itself alive. It wasn't until he heard the front door slam that the unusual chill left the room, granting him some peace. The images abandoned him, fleeing to the deep recesses of his mind where they would wait for another opportunity to awaken. He closed his eyes, sighing deeply. He was about to attempt sleep once more when there was a knock on the door. It opened before he could answer.

It was his mother. "Collin, honey, are you all right?" she asked, stepping inside.

"Fine, Mom," he replied. "Just trying to sleep." He paused, sitting up in bed. "Mom, who was that?"

Shera faltered, her gaze seeking to escape his. "We'll talk about it tomorrow, Collin. Don't worry about it right now—he's gone." She crossed the room and kissed his forehead. "Now get some rest. You've got a busy day tomorrow, don't you?"

"I guess so." Collin smiled, for her sake. "Good night, Mom."

"Good night. I'll see you in the morning." She smiled back and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Collin sighed, lying back down. He stared at the ceiling. Cloud Strife his mind repeated over and over. I wonder if it really was....

---

The next morning all four children dressed quickly and hurried to surround the breakfast table. They eagerly awaited for everyone to be present before starting their interrogation. "So who—and what—was that last night?" Daryl asked immediately after her father had taken his seat. "And where did he go?"

"Damn, can't a man get his coffee before being put on the spot?" Cid replied, exasperated; obviously stalling. Shera didn't help by offering him his cup. He sipped from it for a moment, which only served to increase their curiosity. "It's not important. He's gone now."

Marlene bit her lip, looking as if she wanted to speak. His eyes instructed her otherwise. Vincent and Shera didn't look like they were about to speak, either. Collin frowned, shifting in his seat. He wanted to know—he had to know. "Dad," he asked in the brief silence that followed, "was that Cloud Strife?"

The four adults exchanged glances, and before Cid could protest, Vincent answered. "Yes, Collin. That was Cloud Strife from Avalanche."

"I knew it!" Daryl exclaimed with enthusiasm her father quickly admonished her for.

"Don't sound so damn happy," he rebuked.

Shera frowned. "Cid, please don't talk like that in front of Samantha and Elly."

"Uh...yeah." Cid rubbed the growing stubble of his beard, disconcerted. "But anyway, I don't want you going near him—any of you."

Elly pushed the cereal around in her bowl. "Why not? He's your friend, isn't he?"

Another uncomfortable pause followed. At long last Vincent pushed back from the table and stood. "I'll explain it," he said, the tone of his voice indicating that he would do so whether or not the others approved. He started out of the kitchen, and hesitantly, the four siblings followed.

Vincent took them into their father's workroom. Most of it was filled with an old Shin-ra automobile that, decades after its purchase, still lay in pieces about the hardwood floor. He seated himself on a stool, and his young audience found positions on the many crates and boxes that lay about. "What I'm going to tell you is very important," he told them in a serious tone. "You all know about what happened to Midgar, don't you?" He spoke the name quietly, as if the very sound of it could alert the New Griffin Clan which had destroyed Vandalee.

"It was the Dragon Clan," Samantha replied precisely. "They appeared and destroyed it."

"That's right. And you know that your father and I were there."

"Yes." Her siblings nodded solemnly.

Vincent paused then, as if unsure as to where he should begin. He left the stool, kneeling in front of them where they could see. "You see my eyes?" he said, gazing at each in turn. "They're red for a reason. Even if you've heard the stories, no one can understand what it's like until they've experienced it."

"You have the space alien inside you, right?" was Samantha's first question. "The one that was in...." She broke off. As logical and non-superstitious as she was, even she could not speak the name aloud.

"Yes," he replied, sitting down. "The same. I had a very difficult time with it for many years. But with a strong enough heart a man may defeat it and live happily." He smiled with a bit of rueful recollection. "And some may not."

Collin nodded slowly, as if he understood completely. He absorbed the story with wide, almost hungry eyes. "And Cloud Strife," he murmured. "He has it in him, too."

The older man appeared a bit disturbed by the boy's sudden comprehension. "Yes. None of us are sure for how long, or what effect it's had on him all this time, but after the Fallout...he became distant." He considered his answers for a moment more. "Once the alien was destroyed he, in a way, lost contact with reality. We tried to help him, but it only got worse. Eventually he set out alone."

His eyes met Collin's. The boy had never shrunk away from Vincent's gaze before, having known the man nearly all of his life, but something in it now caused him to shiver. There was something else. Something that had to do with him. Something frightening.

"So why is Dad so upset?" asked Daryl, resting her chin on her hands. "I mean, even if he's a little wacko, that doesn't mean we can't even let him through the door, does it?"

Vincent shook his head sadly. "Cloud hasn't been sane for years. Sometimes he imagines things. Those are the things that make him dangerous. He can't help it, and I wish...." He closed his eyes, for which Collin was strangely relieved. "I wish I could help him. I know how difficult it is. But he's unpredictable, and your father doesn't want to risk him hurting you, even if he doesn't mean to."

The three sisters exchanged glances, somewhat satisfied, but also sympathetic. Collin didn't look at them. He was watching Vincent, an odd stirring in his gut. He wanted to know what it was that let Vincent repent and recover, yet left his comrade in hell. Who decided that fate? And, more importantly, what did it have to do with him? Vincent was focused on him more than the others. Why was he special?

"Well, that's it," Vincent said abruptly, climbing to his feet. "He's likely to stay in town for a while, but don't go near him if you see him. He'll be able to take care of himself." He turned and strode from the room.

"Wow," said Samantha once he'd gone. "We had a psycho in our house last night."

"He's not a psycho," Elly quickly defended him. "He just...needs help." She turned to her brother. "Right, Collin?"

Collin's brow creased. "I don't know," he said absently. "But Vincent's not telling us something. There's something else."

Daryl chewed on her lip, taking the possibility very seriously. "Now that I think about it, there are still a couple members of...well, you know...that we haven't met. Nanaki and Yuffie came last year, but...."

"We're learning about it in class," Elly added helpfully. "There were nine originally."

Samantha clearly did not care for their interest. "They're probably all dead. I mean, if they weren't, then where are they? We've never seen them." She stood. "In any case, we're going to be late for school if we don't hurry. Let's just do what Dad thinks is right this time. That Cloud guy gives me the creeps anyway." She left the room, clearly ending the discussion.

Daryl shrugged, joining her. A moment later Elly did as well. Collin sighed and returned to the breakfast table, unable to shake the strange feeling in his stomach. He resolved to find his own answers.

---

The next day at school everyone was subdued. The normal bustle and Getting-Close-To-Summer Syndrome excitement was repressed, due to the recent catastrophe. Even the noted trouble-makers were quiet and respectful to the air of mourning. It made Collin uneasy. Whenever anyone looked at him their eyes were sharp and questioning, as if he somehow was involved in the matter. Some gazes were accusatory, some merely inquisitive, and even a few fearful. As a son of Cid Highwind he was used to being somewhat famous, but he didn't like this. He had nothing to do with Vandalee, or New Griffins, or the planet. He was just a high school freshman, just as confused and anxious as any of them.

Between fifth and sixth period he was finally able to spot Tess among the crowds of students milling about. He pushed his way through the mess, and finally caught up to her outside her next class. "Hey, Tess," he greeted awkwardly. The two of them weren't much more than acquaintances, and he wasn't sure how she would react to his proposal. "Can I talk to you a sec?"

"Sure." Tess waved to her friends, who shrugged and entered the class ahead of her. "What's up?"

"Well, this is kinda weird, but you know a lot about...the Fallout stuff, right?"

Her dark eyes watched him quizzically, clearly puzzled but also attentive. "Yes, you could say that. Is something the matter? You look a little weird."

Collin paused, unsure as to what she might have meant by "weird." "No, I'm fine. It's just, I need to know about all that stuff. Can we talk? After school?"

Tess considered, but with a smile. "Sure, I guess." Her smile grew into a grin, one that began to make him feel light-headed. "Cramming for finals last-minute?"

"Actually...Cloud Strife was in my kitchen last night," he blurted out.

"What?!" She was so surprised—and excited—that her books tumbled out of her arms. "He—he was? The real—"

"Shh! My Dad'll kill me if he finds out I told you." Collin bent down to pick up her books, and she joined him, if only so that they could speak privately. "Yes, the real Cloud Strife," he told her quietly. Her eyes widened like those of a hungry cat. "But my Dad kicked him out." Her expression fell. Fearful that she may lose interest, Collin quickly continued. "But he's still in the city. Vincent was telling me about him, but—"

"Wait a minute," Tess interrupted, her hand coming down on his wrist. The contact startled him. A moment later, however, he didn't mind anymore. "You said you know Vincent? Vincent...as in Valentine?"

"Uh, yeah." He realized his mistake too late. Vincent's presence in their house had always been somewhat of a secret; even those who knew he was there never related him to the former Avalanche member, as he was one of the lesser known of the group, and no one referred to them by name anymore. But of course Tess would know the details; it was her entire life.

"You have the Vincent Valentine in your house, and you never told me?" Tess continued, utterly astonished. "And, what, do you have Turks in your basement?"

"No, but you were right about the former President." When she nearly exploded in excitement he quickly said, "Just kidding, kidding. But can we talk after school?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, of course." She grinned—so wide that he thought he could see all her teeth. "This is amazing! How come you never told me before? I would die to meet all of them!"

Collin righted himself and she followed suit. He handed her her books. "Well," he said with a shrug, "you never asked."

Tess gave him a look of mock anger. "Yeah, yeah. But how about I meet you at the Coffee Hut after school? About three-fifteen? I don't like coffee, but they have good fries, and I'll have to go by my house to pick up some stuff."

"Uh, sure. That'd...be great." He smiled, only slightly disappointed at having not been invited to her house. "I'll see you then."

"Great. It's a date." She flashed him one final grin before disappearing into class, leaving Collin to ponder her last words.

A...a date?

--

After school Collin went quickly to the Coffee Hut and found himself a table—for two—near the large store window. At three-fourteen he ordered a plate of fries, and then waited, fidgeting nervous. A date? A real, guy-girl date? But, I've never been on a real date. What do I do? But this isn't a real date, because we're just meeting to talk about stuff. So how could it be a date? I didn't ask her out.

So Collin decided that it was not a date. It couldn't be a date, because he hadn't asked her out. He had simply suggested that they meet to talk about Cloud.

Cloud. The name resounded in his mind strangely, like an echo. He forced himself to forget his discomfort, however, when he spotted Tess approaching. She hurried inside and slid into the seat across from him. "Am I late?" she asked.

"No, not at all." He smiled at her somewhat rushed appearance. "You didn't have to run."

"I didn't want to keep you waiting." She quickly cleared their small table, and lifted a large, scrap-book-looking binder out of her bag. It was covered with a piece of duct tape, as if once sporting a label that had been concealed. "This is my father's scrapbook," she affirmed, her eyes nearly aglow with excitement. "He's been following Shin-ra ever since he was a kid, before the Fallout. He used to live in Junon with my mom, and became a pilot." She giggled. "Not as good as your dad, I'm sure, but he was part of the crew of the Highwind." She grinned at the surprised expression on his face. "I bet you didn't know that before."

"No, not really." He frowned. "But...."

"My dad changed his name after everything," she explained. "He used to be Todd Marks before he was Todd Raven. 'Tess Raven' is a better stage name than 'Tess Marks' anyway. It sounds like a board game."

Collin chuckled, but his attention was quickly drawn back to the scrapbook. "So what's in there?"

Tess grinned. "All sorts of stuff." She opened it for him to see. "Old magazine clippings, newspaper articles, photographs. Most of it's from him during training, or stuff about SOLDIER. He was really interested in that, but he never learned how to fight. Take a look."

He nodded, hesitantly accepting the book. "This thing's got to be worth a fortune," he murmured half to himself. "No one saves this kind of stuff anymore."

"My dad's like a packrat. But I'm afraid to show it to many people, because most of them are still superstitious."

Collin realized then that she was taking a bit of a risk in showing this possession to him. She must have cherished it, considering how much history fascinated her, and bringing it into public gave the possibility that it would be discovered and confiscated. From then on he treated the old pages as if they were the most ancient, important document in the world. He flipped through the old photographs, not really interested in the people he didn't recognize. Eventually he found an old newspaper clipping that caught his eye: a tall man dressed entirely in black, wielding a sword that was as long as his height. Collin could only stare. Though he perhaps should have felt some fear at seeing this—certainly anyone else in the store would have averted their eyes immediately—he didn't. He saw only a man with a sword: a powerful man, granted, but just a man.

"That's him," Tess said in a kind of respectful whisper. Here eyes were wide, and though she'd probably spent hours at a time just staring at the picture, she held no less wonder for the ancient page. "The Great SOLDIER. Do you know what his name is?"

"Yes." It sounded like a strange question, but when Collin considered, he realized that most of the people now wouldn't know. The name itself was like a curse, not even spoken in whispers. He realized then that he wasn't even sure how he had known, as his father had never spoken of the Fallout to them directly. He'd learned everything from Vincent. But even Vincent had never said the name.

Sephiroth. He stared at the newspaper print, skimming through the article silently. It spoke of one of Sephiroth's missions to the Southern Islands around Mideel—not terribly exciting, in his opinion. He continued to flip through, until he discovered another report.

Sephiroth's death.

"Dad says it was pretty shocking," Tess interrupted his viewing again. "The strongest man in the world killed in a little town in the mountains. My Dad never heard the whole story, but it wasn't what's written in that report. He was driven insane by the Alien."

"Jenova," he whispered without thinking. Thankfully, no one was around to hear him. She nodded. He was beginning to recall what Vincent had told him that morning when a sudden chill came over him. Tess didn't seem to be affected by it, though, so he assumed it was his imagination.

"But I'm more interested in hearing about Vincent Valentine." Their fries arrived at last, and Tess momentarily covered the book while the waiter set out their plate. They pulled over an extra table to set the fries on so that they'd still have room for the book. Tess ate several fries, waiting for their server to go away, before continuing. "He lives with you, right? There's so little information on him."

"Vincent's...kind of shy." Collin shrugged, and kept paging through absently. "He doesn't talk about the Fallout much, but he does more than my Dad. He says it's important that at least one person always remembers what happened back then."

Her eyes again went wide. "So...does that mean he'd be willing to talk to me some time? About everything?"

"Well..." He paused, having come across another color photograph. It was larger than the normal ones, and retouched by a computer to show as much detail as possible. Collin stared, a bit disbelieving. It was Avalanche—all of them, standing amid a backdrop of colored lights and huge, golden buildings. He stared for a long time, his eyes drifting from one person to the next. It was a real photograph, of the real group, unlike so many fakes that had surfaced over the years from tabloids. He could tell, because each of them looked perfect, from the clothes to the expressions on their faces.

"Tess," he breathed, amazed by what he was seeing. He'd never seen any pictures of the group before. Not even Marlene had any. "Where did you get this?"

She smiled, appreciating how rare of a find it was with pride. "Isn't it something? My Dad found it in the Highwind, in a trash can. It was torn right down the middle. He thought it was a shame for something like this to be thrown away, so he saved it, scanned it, and fixed it. He's got the original at home." She looked to him, as if searching for approval. "The backdrop is the old theme park, Gold Saucer. Supposedly it was the last time they were all together."

Collin nodded. He felt the same chill as before, but he tried to ignore it again. "People would kill for this," he whispered, suddenly feeling as if he were the target for an assassin. "Our textbook's only got sketches, and they don't look anything like these. Except for the ones that are still alive."

He stared at the faces, half of them familiar and the rest not. Looking at Cloud
dispelled some of the fear he'd had before; he didn't look like a psychotic. He looked perfectly happy. But that might have been the effect of having two beautiful women hanging on his arms. The one on Cloud's left was who their textbook referred to only as "The Devoted One," a gorgeous brunette wearing a white tank top and black mini-skirt. She was grinning, and he couldn't help but smile back, as if her jovial expression were meant for him.

When he looked at the other woman, however, a strange feeling rose inside him. She looked younger, her hair tied and twisted, her green eyes sparkling secretively. She was leaning her head against Cloud's shoulder, looking for all the world as if she'd won him at one of the carnival games. A scowl twisted the boy's lips. He couldn't explain it. Something in those eyes pulled to the surface a kind of contempt he rarely held for anyone. To hate the Flower-Seller was ridiculous and near sacrilege—Marlene had insisted to him several times that, despite the destruction of Midgar, the woman had saved the entire Earth with her care. But in looking at her, he felt only disgust.

The chill that had annoyed him only mildly now rose into an almost frightening shudder, and he sat back in his chair, startled. He realized a moment later that he was holding his breath. Tess was staring at him with puzzlement. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know." Collin turned his head away, hoping she wouldn't see his look of fear. His gaze penetrated the thin glass window to land on a figure standing outside the shop, and his instincts froze. It was a man, his blue eyes blazing and intense, his hands tightened into fists against the glass.

In Which We Find Our Immortality

Chapter 3: Uncertainty Rising

Vincent leaned back in his chair, frowning to himself. The computer screen continued to flicker and change, showing reports and images from the wreckage of Vandalee. A day later some of the fires were still burning in the southern section, where the attack had most likely originated from. He stopped the cycle when his eye caught something: a mound of flesh twenty feet in length, covered in fur and feathers. A Griffin. Not the same Griffins that had existed before the Fallout, though. After Meteor the planet had quickly managed to rebuild itself, and several new species of monsters had emerged. The New Griffins were nearly as vicious as the Dragons, now.

"Thought so," Cid muttered over his shoulder, his expression grim. "The entire damn Clan from the south. They must have migrated. But it would have taken them weeks to travel that distance, there's so damn many of them."

"The city wasn't supposed to be fully functional yet. There was no reason for them to start a migration months ago."

"Shit." He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and searched for a lighter. "That means they were just passing through. Either Cassandra hasn't been telling us something or they've got something else in mind. If they have minds."

Vincent typed in several commands, bringing up a map of the western continent. "The New Griffin nesting grounds are here," he said, pointing to a section of forest to the far south. "They pass by Cosmo Canyon every year. They should have been heading in that direction this time of year. Instead they're heading north." He traced a path with his claw across the Continental Strait, and tapped the position where Vandalee had once been on the coast. "If they go through the mountains following the same path...." He trailed off as his claw passed over Rocket City.

Cid ground his teeth, attempting keep himself from sprouting several particularly vulgar curses. "How long?" he asked in a low tone, as if suddenly they were being watched.

"A month, I think." He entered several more commands, the computer creating its own estimated path. "Looks like five weeks. Six if they bypass the mountains." His voice was quickly becoming grim. "Not much time."

"But there's no way to tell if they're really after us or not."

"Not yet."

"Shit. F—king shit." Cid began to pace, remembering the images displayed by Vincent's computer only minutes before. We'll have to tell President Matthews. But I don't think we should evacuate just yet."

"We have no place to go."

---

Time had stopped. Collin could only stare at the man who stood just outside, his insides trembling. The intense blue eye bore into his skin, as if burning it layer by layer, until there would be nothing left. He was only barely aware of Tess, her own expression one of wonder. For on the other side of the glass stood a legend, a man who had once been a hero. It was Cloud Strife; even if years of isolation and insanity had driven the boyish arrogance and hopeful optimism from that blue-eyed stare, nothing could steal from him the absolute power and strength from his aura. To be near him, to feel his eyes, could cause any man to tremble.

The air grew cold. Cloud's blank expression never changed, but his fists tightened, and the glass began to vibrate. Collin started, somehow able to sense the rising of power within the man. He snatched Tess by the wrist and pulled her quickly away from the window.

As he'd expected, the glass shattered suddenly—there was no explosion, and the only noise was the cracking and snapping of delicate shards, as if the window had simply fallen apart on command. The cafe was quickly silenced as everyone turned to see what had happened. The owner entered from the back room, about to demand an explanation. He stopped when he saw Cloud.

"That's him, isn't it?" Tess whispered, staring in awe as Cloud glanced about the cafe critically. "That's really him."

Collin couldn't answer. He didn't have to; everyone in the restaurant must have realized by now, as their eyes were wide and mouths agape. A faint murmur began to spread through the customers in the back, containing notes of amazement and suspicion. Collin ignored them. His throat constricted when he swallowed, reminding him of the fear he'd felt from this man the night before. It had returned in full. Though he wanted nothing more than to leave, or at least close his eyes so that he wouldn't have to watch, he was frozen.

Cloud reached through the broken window, his movements slow and hesitant. His fingers curled around the picture Collin had been studying. He stared at it, emotionless, soaking in the image through his twin azure orbs silently.

Tess pulled away from her friend, and before he had a chance to stop her she had approached the man. "That's yours, isn't it?"

Cloud's head snapped up, is if startled by having been addressed. He regarded the girl with careful scrutiny. Then he returned his gaze to the picture without a reply.

"You can take it," Tess continued bravely. "It's yours, isn't it? My Dad fixed it." She paused. "You…are him, aren't you?"

Collin held his breath. He was shaking, fearful of what might happen, but to his relief Cloud only set the photograph down once more. When the man spoke, his voice was hollow. "I was."

She nearly squealed with delight; somehow, she managed to hold in her enthusiasm. "My name's Tess Raven," she introduced, as if she'd forgotten how he'd shattered the window moments before without effort. "My Dad's name is Todd—Todd Marks. You knew him, didn't you? On the airship?"

Cloud stared at her. He squinted, looked her over, and nodded. "Yes," was all he answered.

Collin couldn't take it anymore. He stepped forward and took Tess by the arm, standing by her side as if to protect her. He couldn't explain the sudden feeling, but in recalling what Vincent had told him that morning, he knew this man couldn't be trusted. If he could unintentionally harm his friends, than what was he capable of doing to a stranger?

Cloud regarded this new boy carefully, and his eyes narrowed into vibrant blue slits. The boy found himself responding to this in kind; his own eyes narrowed defiantly. They stood that way for a moment, just staring, as if considering a challenge. A last Cloud merely snorted. He turned and began to walk away. For a moment the cafe owner considered following. But that was only for a moment.

"That was him!" Tess exploded all at once, turning to face her classmate. "You were right—the real Cloud Strife! Can you believe it? It's amazing! I've got to go after him." She quickly began gathering her things, shoving the scrapbook into her bag.

"What?" Collin blinked, as if waking from a trance. When he realized her intentions he was filled with panic. "Tess, you can't. Just leave him alone."

"You expect me to just let him walk away?" She shouldered her bag and carefully climbed out through the broken store window. Cloud was at the end of the street—he was easy to spot, as the people on the sidewalks all gave him a wide berth. "I'm going to talk to him."

Collin quickly followed. "Don't be crazy. He's insane—he'll kill you!"

"Kill? You're the one being crazy." Tess grinned, her jubilation unfathomable. "Collin, you're a sweet guy, and thanks for being concerned, but this is my entire life. I can't let him just walk away! Besides, my dad would kill me." She started after the man. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Wait!" He gave chase. I can't just let her go, he reasoned. Even if Vincent was wrong, I don't trust him. It…just doesn't feel right. "I'll come too!"

Tess didn't slow down, but he was still able to catch up to her. They followed Cloud down the street, keeping several feet behind as he turned corners and made his way across the town. Collin's instincts told him that they should turn back—certainly as the leader of Avalanche Cloud could tell that they were following him—but abandoning Tess was not an option. Even if it frightened him, he had to keep going.

Cloud finally entered a motel at the far edge of town. Tess was thrilled to see two chocobos asleep just outside in the grass: one was a female, brilliant gold in color. The second was also female, a deep, royal purple—a color of bird neither had seen before. It was larger than the other, and around its thick beak was a crude metal muzzle. A rope around its neck kept it tied securely to a metal hook in the ground.

"That's weird," Tess remarked. "I don't know much about chocobos, but they're usually friendly, aren't they? Especially with people. Why would he tie it up?"

"I don't know," her companion admitted. "But it doesn't look very friendly from here. Let's go, Tess. You got to see him."

But Tess kept going anyway. She crept stealthily across the front lawn, past the slumbering birds, her sights set on the door Cloud had entered. Collin unwittingly followed. He stood back, however, behind a group of tall bushes as she knocked, so that he was out of sight. He didn't want to have to meet those blue eyes again.

There was no reply. Tess knocked again, harder, and a moment later the door opened suddenly. She didn't falter under the sharp gaze of the man. "What is it?" he asked, his voice a bit less harsh than before.

"I was hoping I could talk to you a bit," Tess replied without any discomfort or hesitation. She was completely collected and sure of herself. "You have no idea how pleased I am to finally meet you."

"You're interested in Avalanche."

"Yes. Very much so." Collin silently prayed from the side. "My father told me a lot about the Fallout and before that, and I've been retelling the stories to everyone who'll listen." He could almost imagine the smile she must have had. "In fact, I'm having a performance on Saturday. At North Webber High School, around noon."

Collin mentally cursed. Tess, what are you doing? You can't invite him! He'll—he'll—

"You're inviting me?" Cloud asked, sounding uninterested.

"Yes. There's no admission price, and if you come a little late you can stay in the back where no one will see you."

"...All right. I may come."

"Great. Thanks, Mr. Strife. I hope you approve." She turned away from the door and started off. "See you Saturday!"

Collin was about to follow, but realized then that the door was still open, and Cloud still there; if he left, he would be spotted. He waited a bit awkwardly, feeling ridiculous. If Tess wasn't afraid, why should he be?

I know you're there.

The boy started. He glanced about but saw nothing. Slowly, he came out of hiding.

Cloud was still in the door, watching the young teen with cold eyes. He didn't speak, but somehow the man's voice still reached him, like the whisper of a ghost.

I know what you are.

Collin turned and retreated after his friend.

---

Cassandra Matthews stared out of the window of her tenth floor office. At such a height she was granted only a partial view of the city she governed, a maze of buildings and suburbs, parks and industries. The streets below were small but ran efficiently, as there were few cars allowed inside the city. No building was over ten stories tall. Every factory was designed to put out as little pollution as possible. Trees, flowers, even weeds were allowed to grow wherever they pleased. They had come a long way from the small, unorganized village that was the old Rocket Town. They had progressed in a different direction than that taken by the old Midgar. Though Cassandra's window view would never match the impressive panorama that Rufus had been treated to during his reign, she favored it. She had made a good, clean, peaceful city.

She sighed, turning to face her two visitors once more. She'd heard their findings and their theories, each of which now rested heavily in her mind. "When will we be able to tell?" she asked in a quiet, reserved voice.

"I don't know that we will," Vincent replied with similar calm. "But the New Griffins have never come this far north. We should assume that they are targeting this city."

"After everything…" Cassandra breathed slowly and deeply. "I'll call a counsel meeting for tonight," she decided, placing her fingertips on her desk. "You have until then to prepare any more information." She raised her eyes to them. Cid Highwind and Vincent Valentine, two of the remaining members of Avalanche. Through her mind paraded the stories from her youth: the battles, the courage, and the cleverness. On the other side of her desk were two heroes, and yet they looked even less hopeful than she felt. Or maybe it was simply their realism. "Can you offer me anything?" she asked. "In all honesty. What are our options?"

"Not many," Cid admitted bluntly, as was his custom. He ticked them off on his fingers. "We stay and hope they leave us alone; we evacuate the city and try someplace else; we stand and fight."

"They won't pass us by," rejoined Vincent. "There is no place for us to go, and we cannot fight. We have no weapons large enough to defend against a New Griffin Clan." His voice dropped. "Vandalee was a mistake. We both said that from the start. It went ahead anyway, and now it's too late. We don't have any options, Cassandra."

Cassandra didn't like how Vincent always called her by her first name. Though it was flattering to be considered a friend of a former Avalanche member, he used no discretion, and it gave the counsel members an appearance she didn't want. "There are always options, Mr. Valentine. We simply have to find some." She met his gaze with a bit of defiance. Even if he was one of the old heroes and he had experience, she didn't want pessimism. She wanted answers. "You have until eight tonight. Please don't disappoint me."

"One more thing," Vincent said before she could dismiss them. He met her gaze directly, unnerving her a bit. "The Planet has only moved against those cities that were a threat to it—Midgar, Nibelheim, Junon, and North Corel all had Mako Reactors. New Midgar and Mandrel were both destroyed—they had both been experimenting with Midgar's technology."

"It's bad luck to say their names," the President murmured.

"It's got nothing to do with luck. The only reason the planet does anything is in defense of itself." His voice dropped. "Was Vandalee experimenting with a reactor? How could it provoke an attack if it wasn't even supposed to be operational?"

Cassandra glared at him, shocked by what he was implying. "Are you insane?" she snapped, insulted by his proposal. "I'm not like that fool Scarlet—I know that the Reactors have always been the problem, and so does everyone else. Besides, that technology's been lost for years. No one knows how to make a reactor anymore." She lifted her chin. "Don't think me a fool, Mr. Valentine. I've worked hard for this city and these people—I'd never make such an obvious mistake. You can be sure of that."

Vincent stared the President down for a moment, until he was satisfied of her convictions. He nodded sharply and headed for the door. Somewhat baffled, Cid followed a moment later. He didn't question until they were outside. "What the hell was that? You think Vandalee was building a reactor?"

"It's the only explanation," Vincent replied, keeping his voice somewhat low. He stared straight ahead. "The Planet may not appreciate humans anymore, but no Clan has ever attacked a city without being provoked in some way. Remember Mandrel?"

"Of course." Mandrel had been the fourth settlement created after the Fallout. It had been located in the Southern Islands around Mideel, perhaps the area richest in Mako. It had been successful until Scarlet had reemerged—somehow she'd managed to excavate many of Shin-ra's old documents from the ruined Midgar, and attempted to create a reactor near the city. A week after construction began the entire city had been attacked and consumed by a Clan of mutated Hippogriffs. Since then no attempt had been made to create another Mako Reactor.

"There is something else," Vincent added reluctantly. His expression deepened in severity. "Cloud is now in the city. He was staying in Cosmo Canyon until he received Marlene's letter—he told me so. If he traveled by chocobo the entire way it would have taken him a long time to reach here."

Cid caught on quickly. "And he must have gone through Vandalee. And now he's here, and the New Griffins are headed our way. Shit." His hand ached for a cigarette, even knowing that he'd smoked his last hours ago.

"I don't want to assume things like that. I don't want to think that…it could be his fault in any way." Vincent sighed. "There was once when I could empathize with what he's going through. Laying another burden on his shoulders…."

"He's not the one I'm worried about," his companion muttered. "He always manages to come out alive."

The dark-haired man glanced at Cid briefly out the corner of his eye. He didn't like the way Cid talked about Cloud, as if somehow everything had been his fault. Vincent thought the man a hypocrite. After all, was it not the former captain who had accepted him, a demon, into his home after nearly three years of isolation? Vincent knew that his past crimes were unforgivable, and yet he'd been able to overcome his remorse and live a happy, peaceful life with this family.

But Cloud would never be given that chance. He had been cast out by everyone who had once cared for him, for something he could not help. And yet, even knowing that, Vincent could think of no way to help him. Their old leader was beyond their reach now, so much so that attempting to help him would not only be futile, but dangerous. Hell for him seemed to be the only choice.

Vincent closed his eyes only briefly, then continued with Cid silently.

---

Collin lay awake in bed. All the events of that day rested heavily in his mind, churning and repeating, allowing him no moment of rest. He wanted nothing more to sleep and forget, but his curious mind obviously had no such intention.

Speaking to Tess and seeing her pictures had been the start. The photograph which so clearly displayed the images and personalities of Avalanche was now a frequent visitor to his sight. All that evening he'd tried to work up the courage to ask his dad and Vincent about it, in vain. They were too caught up in their own worries.

Actually meeting Cloud had been the second disturbance. Facing that visage again had nearly terrified him, for what reason he did not know. It was this uncertainty that bothered him most of all. After that the day had passed in a blur of increasingly ill tidings: the Griffin Clan was on its way toward the city. His dad and Vincent both agreed that evacuation seemed to be the only possibility for saving Rocket City's population. Naturally they hadn't informed the public yet, as starting a riot in the city would do no good. They would wait, and plan in secret. But Collin knew. He shouldn't have overheard his parents speaking before Cid left for the counsel meeting, but he had. Keeping the news secret would not be easy for him.

And yet, despite all the things that had happened to him today, what stuck in his thoughts the most was what Cloud had said—or rather, thought—to him.

I know what you are.

Since he was a kid Collin had suspected that he was not truly Cid Highwind's son. His first clue was the lack of pictures there were of him as a child. Though Daryl, Samantha, and Elly each had dozens—as all parents seemed to have a fascination with photographs—he had only a few from before he was four years old. More than that, he resembled neither of his parents as much as his sisters. All of their hair was darker than his white-blond, and his green eyes matched neither Cid's nor Shera's. He didn't like the same foods as his siblings, or the same anything, for that matter. He should have shared at least shared some of their interests. But Cid and Shera liked machines, Daryl liked sports, Samantha and Elly liked books--he didn't especially like any of those things.

More than that, it felt wrong. Though his parents treated him no different, and his sisters loved him just as much as did Vincent and Marlene, somehow he knew. He'd never asked—if he had another set of parents, somewhere, it didn't matter. This was his family and his home. It didn't bother him much, even if he sometimes wondered idly 'who' he was. If Collin Highwind was really his name.

'What' he was, was totally different. That wasn't a question he'd ever asked himself before. But he was asking it now, in whispers from his brain. He wanted to know what it was that Cloud Strife knew. It had something to do with the reason why he feared Cloud—why they seemed to fear each other. What could he be, other than human?

Collin shuddered. His thoughts suddenly sprang to Vincent, and a conversation he'd overheard once between him and the President of Phoenix Lattice.

"Mr. Valentine, you would make an important addition to our Counsel. But I don't think the public eye is a good place for you. Forgive me, but…."

"I understand. Human's fear what they don't understand with their eyes."

"Are you…implying that you are something other than human? I don't mean to insult you, but as the President of this City I need to know such things."

"I am human enough, Cassandra. You've nothing to fear from me."

"What is there besides being human?" Collin wondered aloud, gazing at the ceiling. His eyes drifted, taking in the room and the furniture in it. His sports trophies. His math awards. He was successful, unusually so, just as Vincent was. Were they more alike than they seemed? And if Vincent wasn't completely human, did that mean that neither was he?

"You're going to drive yourself insane. Go to sleep." Collin sighed, pulling the sheets about him even as it was still over sixty degrees in his room. "Not human? Yeah, right. You're not that special." He laughed a bit at his own idiotic ideas and closed his eyes.'

***************

It was the same dream.

Collin watched. He saw the brown-haired woman, bleeding and dying, and the man that carried her. He saw the figure that watched without care, and the blade hanging in his grip. He was filled with pain, rage, and satisfaction all at once. But then the dream shifted, and he was seeing something else.

Across the horizon stretched a barren, metal-twisted landscape: the old Midgar. It was painted red, as if the entire city were wounded and bleeding. The source was a ball of fire that hung over it, suspended, slowly devouring the iron and concrete through its tendrils. Collin watched, fascinated by its consumption of life.

And then the light came. It stretched beneath the Hell rock, attempting to halt its progress unsuccessfully. The sphere only grew in strength, falling faster. In the back of his mind the spectator could hear whispers.

"Forget Midgar. We've got to worry about the planet."

"Isn't there something we can do?"

"Aeris…please…"

A new light came, shining green like a flood of emerald stars, washing over the deadened and forsaken earth. It rose in waves, aiding the first light in its battle. The feel of its power nearly shook Collin from the dream. He felt triumph, anguish, elation, and despair as the Lifestream surrounded and penetrated the mass of fire and stone, shattering it in an explosion of light. The Earth was liberated.

"Was that…Lifestream?" the voices continued. "But…how?"

"Who cares! We did it! We saved the f—king planet!"

"Thank God…thank God…"

"Thank you…Aeris."

The Earth had been saved. Collin realized what he was seeing: it was the Descent of Meteor. But it was also only the middle of the Fallout.

"What…what the hell is that? Do you see that?"

"It looks like a dragon. But…wait, how many are there?"

"They're surrounding Midgar. What the hell is going on?"

Meteor had not been the sum of Midgar's problems. Present experts speculated that, after the Weapons had been destroyed, the planet had managed to assemble another line of defense: a clan a dragons from all over the planet. They were stronger, smarter, and more powerful than normal dragons; so much so that the name "dragon" didn't seem to apply. They circled the city, waiting until Lifestream had dissipated back into the Earth. And then they attacked.

"Holy shit—they're attacking the city? What the hell—"

"Cid, bring us down there. We have to do something!"

"Against them? There's hundreds of them!"

"Just put the damn ship down! Are you going to let all those people f—king die?"

The outcome was obvious. Eight fighters had no chance against the hundreds of beasts. The dragons moved quickly and efficiently, those with wings destroying the buildings and plate while those without ravaged the slums, killing anyone that attempted to halt their force. Cloud led his friends into the struggle. They fought bravely—uselessly. In the end it was all they could do to save their own lives. When the slaughter had ended only one fifth of the once massive population had survived.

"Aeris…how could you let this happen?"

From his far off, strange vantage, Collin could only watch the scene. It was eerie, witnessing the events that had begun the largest catastrophe known to his planet. In an instant in the dream weeks had passed, and Fort Condor was destroyed. Then Junon, and North Corel, and Nibelheim, and...

When the images became too strong he closed his eyes.